


To Bring A Glow to Your Grace

by EthanBissbort (ebissbort)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, M/M, Magical Bond, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Magical Tattoos, Slow Build, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Soulmates, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-19 21:57:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebissbort/pseuds/EthanBissbort
Summary: Stiles Stilinski, the last spark, and Derek Hale, the male heir to the Hale Dominion have been declared to be wed in the coming months by Her Grace, Queen Talia Hale.Immediately, their courtship is fraught with discomfort, and sometimes outright dislike, with the two being almost complete opposites.The future of the Dominion could be in danger, which would threaten all those under the protection of the Dominion from the ongoing Calaveran Inquisition.The only hope for peace might be an alliance with the Argent-Merovingian family, but that itself is nearly as dangerous as facing the Inquisition.





	1. The Declaration

“Mother!” Prince Derek exclaimed, throwing his hands forward, indicating the supplicant kneeling before them.  
“He is of unique magical descent, the last of the ancient Stilinski line. You will be Alpha, Derek, last of my line. There cannot be a stronger union that will protect the Hale Dominion.” Queen Hale declared, standing and silencing all further objections.  
“The ceremony will occur on the summer equinox.” She said, turning and leaving the throne room, aides and attendants following in her wake.  
Prince Derek sat there, to the right of the throne, staring down in disbelief at the skinny, pale young man before him, who was still kneeling.  
“My gods, stand up already priest, magician, sorcerer, or whatever you are.” Another man, clearly a prince with his crown perched almost precariously, said to him as he stood from his throne.  
“Just a spark, my prince Scott.” The man murmured humbly.  
“A spark who will be part of our family it seems, so stand my future brother-in-law and king!” Prince Scott said, holding out a hand for him to take.  
The man stood, and looked to where Prince Derek had been sitting, only to see an empty throne, and no Derek to be found.  
The look on his face said everything, and Scott leaned towards him, “Don’t worry about him, he’ll warm up eventually.”  
Stiles frowned at the throne, then turned to depart.  
“Staying in the city?” Scott asked as Stiles walked out, making him pause and turn around.  
Stiles replied immediately when he turned, “Yes, I have been.”  
Scott clapped his hands, and his attendants rushed forward, “Michael, Theo. This is future King Stiles.”  
They bowed quickly, then turned their attention to Scott, “What do you need my lord?  
Stiles stepped forward when Scott beckoned him and smiled, “Michael, you will stay with Stiles and treat him as if he were me, and you will have all others treat him the same, under my authority. Theo, you will remain with me.”  
Theo nodded curtly, then returned to the Scott’s throne, stopping and standing at the side, staring off into oblivion.  
“He doesn’t like me much. He used to be royalty, but his family... I kept him, almost like a younger brother. It’s only been a couple years and he’s still resentful. Watch out for him at the moment. He had always been hoping to snag Derek, kind of like everyone alive.” Scott rattled off as he ushered Stiles towards the back of the throne room, off to the business side of the palace.  
“You’ve been isolated off in the Stilinski retreat somewhere out in the forest, yes?” The prince enquired as they passed through the veils at the back of the room. Servants were silently milling about, shuffling documents and opening petitions from subjects.  
Scott led him back through the administrative portion of the castle towards the residence section, which looked out over the glittering sea.

 

As they walked through a garden, Stiles looked around at all the flowering plants, and he let out a sigh filled with desire.  
“Sparks and other natural magic manipulators like plants and nature, right?” Scott enquired from behind him.  
“I’m- I’m the last living spark.” Stiles admitted quietly, hanging his head.  
“I see. Derek is the last firstborn of the Hale line, the only one who can inherit the power behind the crown. You two have something in common at least.” Scott explained, looking to the side at Stiles.  
Stiles nodded silently, staring around at all the beautiful plant life, eventually speaking up, “Can I spend a while here?”  
“You can do whatever you’d like, future King.” Scott said, waving his hand grandly.  
Stiles bent down to grow a rose bloom with his magic, humming contently.  
The sun seemed to shine a little brighter as he did, and Scott peered down over Stiles’ shoulder.  
The rose petals glittered with green and gold sparkles of energy as Stiles gently caressed the flower with the back of his hand.  
The rose bloom was now double the size it had started at, prompting Scott to murmur, “Wow.”  
Stiles stood slowly and gracefully, his fingers still glittering gently as he gazed around the rest of the garden.  
“It seems that your brother would rather I not take that future title.” Stiles said softly as he walked away, leaving Scott standing there, mouth slightly agape.

 

Derek stood at the ramparts that overlooked the inner courtyard, leaning against them for support.  
He fumed at the situation before him, knowing that the only way to protect the Dominion would be to wed Stiles, a move that had zero romantic attraction for him.  
The man was pale, but not alabaster, a rail of a man as well, he looked as if he barely had the fortitude to throw just one punch.  
The sun shone brighter out of nowhere, and Derek narrowed his eyes. Down in the courtyard, Scott and Stiles knelt near a bush.  
Derek watched the two part ways, then immediately moved out of sight, as his brother’s head swiveled around to look right at where Derek had just been standing.


	2. The Way to a Wolfs' Heart

There was a knock at Stiles’ new chambers’ door, which startled him. He had grown accustomed to the silence and solitude of the Stilinski retreat deep in the woods, away from the hubbub of cities and thrones and dominions.  
“Enter?” He said to the room, assuming that’s how ‘royalty’ gave ‘normal’ people permission to enter.  
He looked over from the window he was standing at when Michael entered the room, silently closing the door behind him.  
“Oh. Michael, right?” Stiles asked, blinking in surprise.  
Michael nodded respectfully, “Yes, my lord. Prince Scott sent me to tend to your needs and wishes. How may I serve?”  
“Um. I’m used to doing things myself, so where is the kitchen, exactly?” Stiles asked, walking over to a bag he had set on one of the side tables.  
Michael looked a bit taken aback, “Surely you’d rather have the royal chef prepare you-“  
“No. I’m actually sure I wouldn’t, thank you though. Please just take me to the kitchen.” He insisted, looking up from where he was rummaging through the bag.  
“Yes my lord. This way.” Michael led them from the room as Stiles hoisted the bag over his shoulder.

Stiles found himself being led down various back hallways and corridors, servants stopping to bow every time they caught sight of him.  
This newfound attention made Stiles’ skin crawl at times, so many eyes on him followed by hushed whispers. He decided he much preferred the solitude of his retreat, although he no longer had that luxury.  
He examined Michael from behind, and wondered how the long haired aide had come to serve the Dominion. Michael’s long blond hair, his good looks, and his impressive musculature were betrayed by an energy of deep loss, and of extraordinary power, that only Stiles could see and feel.  
Stiles had long since learned to not probe those energies without the permission of others, having previously re-opened some freshly healed wounds when he had.

They finally arrived at a bustling kitchen, replete with everything Stiles could have hoped for, and then some. Not knowing where to start in such a grand kitchen, he simply gazed around in awe at the set up.  
“I can have everyone clear out, if that would please you m’lord?” Michael enquired after Stiles stayed motionless for a few seconds.  
“No, no, I’m fine. Just a bit to take in at first. I’ll be fine from here, Michael, you may go.” Stiles indicated as he walked up to one of the prep lines, taking a long knife from the wall.  
Michael hesitated for a moment before speaking, “Actually, I was bade to stay with you at all time by Prince Scott.”  
“Ok, then start by washing and chopping these carrots.” Stiles handed him a fistful of freshly picked carrots.  
Michael nodded and began to work side-by-side with the spark, who seemed a master of the kitchen.

Within an hour, Stiles had a soup bubbling, and half the kitchen staff simply watched in awe as Stiles wafted the steam towards himself, blindly reaching over and plucking spices from the rack to drop in.  
“How?” The royal chef asked the room when he finally made an appearance as the evening quickly approached.  
Micheal leaned over, his ability to help having long since ended, whispering, “Part of his spark, it seems. He hasn’t asked for one thing since he started, just seems to know where everything is.”  
Stiles practically glided around the kitchen as if he had grown up there, checking on a piece of meat he had placed in the oven.  
“Where’s Prince Derek around this time?” Stiles asked after literally pulling his head out of the oven.  
“My lord!” Michael exclaimed as a piece of Stiles’ hair had caught fire.  
Stiles waved a hand over his head and the fire went out, his burnt hair immediately becoming whole and undamaged again.  
The staff all stood there, flabbergasted at his power.  
“Michael. Where’s Derek? I’ve made him this meal, and I’d like to share it before it gets cold.” Stiles said, a little testily after nobody said anything for several seconds.  
“He should be getting ready to join the rest of the family for dinner.” The royal chef stated, puffing his chest out a little, as if the best meals were still prepared by him.  
Stiles nodded, then turned to Michael, stating, “Have this taken to his quarters. The two of us will dine there tonight.”  
“My lord, all meals, I have to taste test them all!” The royal chef began to sputter.  
“Your head would probably explode if you tasted how amazing this soup is. I’ve prepared it specifically for myself and Prince Derek. You will have none.”  
“But- I can’t very well-“  
Michael turned to the chef, “You can, and you will. Our future King has decreed that you shall have none.”  
Stiles turned to Michael once more, “Have the food taken to Prince Derek’s chambers, then take me back to mine that I may wash up and be presentable.”

 

After rubbing his face with a fresh cloth, Stiles realized that he was grimier than he’d previously thought.  
He looked at himself in the mirror, realizing he didn’t have enough time to fully clean himself before the food became too cool.  
With a snap of his fingers, his image rearranged itself, his hair becoming well kept and untangled. His face immediately was clean and free of blemishes, and his clothing was replaced by the clean set that had laid on his bed until he had snapped his fingers.  
He turned on his heel and headed out of his room, finding Michael waiting for him outside in the hallway.  
“That was-“  
Stiles chuckled as he finished Michael’s thought, “Magically quick, yes. I appreciate alacrity, and my magic allows me to be prompt when necessary.”


	3. Dinner and Derek

“Well, if I’m unwanted in the castle, then I shall depart.” Theo said, more than a hint of jealousy and anger in his voice.  
Stiles sighed exasperatedly, “That’s not what I meant. I’m having dinner with the prince. Alone.”  
“I attend to my lord Derek at all times, even through mealtimes.” Theo retorted, standing at the washbowl without moving an inch.  
“Then where is he?” Stiles quipped, looking around expectantly.  
“Conversing with the Queen. He will arrive promptly, according to him.” Theo said simply.  
Stiles sat down at the table, staring at the soup he made, stirring it telekinetically with his fingers as if he were bored.  
Stopping what he was doing, Theo stared on as Stiles idly stirred the pot slowly, a single finger making small circles in the air.  
“What? Never seen magic before?” Stiles asked, almost angrily.  
The retreat didn’t have anyone who would stare at him, just a few scholars who taught him the basics before leaving him to tend the wellspring alone.  
“All magic has retreated to the wellspring. You’re the only caster within a thousand miles, if not more.” Theo said, his voice having softened as he became awestruck.  
“Happy Birthday.” Stiles said, snapping his fingers and making small firework-like sparks go off around Theo.  
Theo looked at him in puzzlement, “But sir, it’s not my birthday, not yet. That’s next week. But how-?”  
“Close enough. You can tell when someone is approaching another year on this world, their aura glows a bit brighter.” Stiles explained, sounding a bit bored.  
The door opened, causing both of their heads to swivel, looking from each other to the figure in the doorway.  
Prince Derek stood tall, robed in his finest eating attire, a somewhat sour look upon his face.  
He spoke as soon as he walked through the doorway, “It would appear that I am to dine here tonight, according to my mother. You made quite a stir in the kitchen, challenging the royal chef. I’m impressed.”  
As Stiles stood to greet the prince, Theo walked out with a huff, knowing he would not win against Stiles’ request.  
“That one wears his heart on his sleeve, clearly, my lord.” Stiles spoke before bowing, which earned him a sigh.  
As he bowed, he felt a hand touch his shoulder and push him upright.  
“Call me Derek. You’re soon to be royalty, there’s no need to bow anymore, except to the Queen.” The prince informed him, a small grimace on his face.  
“You’re certainly uncomfortable with this arrangement, perhaps I shouldn’t have made-“ Stiles began to say morosely, but Derek interrupted him.  
“I don’t know you. All I know is you’re the last Stilinski, tender of the wellspring, and are the only magic user in essentially the whole Dominion.” Derek said, more forcefully than he intended to, and his grimace deepened.  
“Fair enough, though I would hope after this meal, you are less frightened of me.” Stiles said softly, walking to the chair that was set for Derek.  
“I’m not afraid of you!” Derek exclaimed, stopping short of the table, glaring at Stiles.  
“Everyone is frightened of me, because sparks haven’t graced the Dominion with their presence for nearly twenty years. My father was the last spark to council the Queen.” Stiles explained calmly, although the look of hurt is his eyes was readily apparent to Derek.  
“I’m sorry about-“ Derek began.  
“Don’t be. The Calaveran delegation that was supposedly traveling peacefully under a flag of truce were the ones who killed him.” Stiles said, his voice much more stern now, taking Derek by surprise.  
Derek took advantage of the awkward pause to complete the last step to the table, then took his seat. Stiles moved out of the way after pulling the chair out, and began to serve the soup silently.  
“It smells wonderful Stiles, thank you.” Derek said politely after blowing on the surface of the soup.  
Stiles smiled broadly for the first time, “You’re quite welcome. If you enjoy the smell, then I know that I’ve done a good job. Can’t fool your werewolf senses.”  
Derek smiled back and nodded in agreement as he brought the spoon to his lips, blowing on it gently.  
Stiles waited for Derek to take the first sip, looking on expectantly as he stirred his own soup telekinetically.  
Instead, Derek’s spoon hovered near his mouth as he watched Stiles stir his own soup. Derek, clearly mesmerized by the display, didn’t take a sip for several seconds, until Stiles cleared his throat.  
“Are you going to try it?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow skyward.  
Derek nodded, then took a sip. The full flavor of the soup hit him instantly, sending his eyebrows rocketing upward in delight.  
“This is incredible,” he said after swallowing, “how did you make this in our kitchen without ever having been there before?”  
“Energy and intuition guide me. I feel things out, which works well with cooking. Herbs and spices, everything from nature, I can read their energies and tell if they will work together.”  
Derek furrowed his brow, “But they’re dead. How can you sense energy from them?”  
“Energy is eternal, everything eventually returns to the wellspring, which I’m directly empowered by.” Stiles explained between bites.  
Derek nodded silently, taking another sip, his eyes still fixed on Stiles.  
“So you have all the magic in this world at your fingertips?” Derek asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.  
“Yes. Every single gram of it.” Stiles said before taking another sip and adding, “That’s why it was entrusted to the Stilinskis. Our line has proven over time that we would not abuse the power, and therefore are fit to serve as those who tend.”  
Derek’s eyes widened as he realized the scope of Stiles’ power and responsibility.  
“That’s-“ Derek started, but was interrupted, “-an enormous responsibility, and a great weight to bear, yes.” Stiles finished, somewhat flatly.  
The rest of the meal, short as it was, was spent in silence, the clattering of spoons on the stoneware was the only noise to pierce the silence.


	4. Heading Home

Nearly two weeks passed before Stiles was able to speak to the Queen about his arranged union with Derek, but finally, the Queen called him to her council’s chambers.  
“I hear rumors that you and Derek haven’t been spending much time together, would you care to tell me why?” She asked, examining him regally.  
“I feel he doesn’t want to get to know me. I will marry him, but I fear that our union will not be as strong as you hope.” Stiles lamented, his eyes downcast in disappointment.  
“Go home. Tend the wellspring for a week, clear your head. I understand that you are not used to spending time around others.”  
“I appreciate that your Grace.” Stiles said, a note of joy in his voice.  
“I will send an escort with you back to the retreat. I do not want to repeat the same mistake I made with your father.”  
“My-“ Stiles stopped, looking up in surprise.  
“Yes. I sent your father back to the wellspring, unescorted, after consulting him about this union over twenty years ago.” She explained quietly, hanging her head in shame.  
“The Stilinski line is the only family that can access the wellspring freely, and I endangered it by not protecting your father.”  
Stiles stepped back, his face crestfallen after learning the truth behind his father’s demise.  
“I don’t know what to say.”“Just know that I am deeply, truly sorry for your loss. Your father was a great man, and his loss deeply saddened me.”  
“Thank you, your Grace.” Stiles said, turning to depart her majesty’s company and prepare to return to the retreat.

Stiles quickly gathered what few things he had brought with him, loading his bag up before heading to meet his escort at the stables.  
The sight he saw before him as he turned the corner took his breath away. He had ridden in with an escort, but the number of forces being sent with him this trip had been at least tripled.  
At the head of the procession, seated regally atop a gorgeous white stallion, was the equally impressive Derek, clad in full armor, sword hanging in its sheath from his waist.  
Stiles walked up to Derek, surprise etched into his face, “I didn’t realize you would be accompanying me on my trip.”  
“A directive from my mother was to keep you safe at all costs, so I decided to personally lead this escort. I shall protect you, especially from the Calaverans.”  
“I appreciate that, my lord.” Stiles replied, bowing slightly, earning a grimace from Derek.  
“Aenerix.” Stiles said to thin air and snapped his fingers.  
A shimmering distortion appeared, and a black, ghostly looking horse pranced through it, shaking its head and neighing.  
Derek’s mouth hung open as Stiles walked up to the stallion and mounted it gracefully, running his fingers down its neck, making cooing noises and whispering sweet things to it.  
After a few moments, he looked up at Derek, who closed his mouth quickly.  
Stiles brought Aenerix up along side Derek, and the pair set off out of the castle.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three hours of their two day ride had already passed, completely in silence.  
Stiles had spoken finally after remembering his conversation with the Queen.  
“Are you going to ask me about Aenerix? You keep looking at him, but not saying anything.” Stiles said, looking over at the prince, who stared determinedly ahead.  
“It’s a spectral horse, only utilized by the battlemages of old, before the Sealing War.” Derek said knowledgeably, glancing over at Aenerix.  
Stiles nodded his head, clearly impressed by Derek’s response, “Do you also know the advantages of riding a spectral stallion?” He asked, probing the depths of Derek’s knowledge.  
“Higher top speed, invulnerability, fearlessness.” Derek ticked off nonchalantly.  
“Precisely why I ride him. He is best suited to keep me safe.”  
Derek nodded silently, then looked over appraisingly at Stiles riding the stallion effortlessly.  
The spark was leaning forward on Aenerix, urging him to go a little faster. Derek’s eyes slid across Stiles’ body, finding it appealing when engaged in the ride. His muscles were taught as he held on to the spectral stallion, Derek’s eyes catching on the broad shoulders and how they tapered to his narrow waist.  
Urging his own stallion forward to keep up, Derek leaned forward as well.  
Stiles continued to accelerate, he and Aenerix shooting forward in an all out gallop. Derek followed with his stallion, but began to fall behind quickly.  
“Stiles!” He bellowed as the gap widened too quickly, Stiles had almost reached the edge of the forest.  
Aenerix slowed to a stop, Stiles glancing back with a grin.  
Derek shook his head at the goofy grin on the spark’s face, but felt a warmth blossom in his chest as his heart raced. He was enjoying the chase, even though he was losing, and was sad to have to bring it to an end.

The escort had galloped after Derek, keeping up with their commander and Prince as best they could, but it took them several seconds to catch up completely to Stiles and Derek at the edge of the forest.  
When they finally caught up, Stiles turned Aenerix and trotted off into the forest, leading the way to the retreat.  
“Stay close Stiles, the forest is dangerous, and a good place for an ambush.” Derek instructed authoritatively, without a hint of concern in his voice.  
Stiles was impressed with Derek’s fearless attitude and confident leadership, promptly acknowledging him, “Agreed. I’ll lead the way, and stay close.”  
“I want to lead the way. It’s safer that way.” Derek said, changing his mind.  
Stiles glanced back and nodded, looking crestfallen, but slowed Aenerix, letting Derek take the lead.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We make camp here tonight.” Derek decreed upon reaching a clearing in the forest large enough for them all.  
Night had long since fallen, the only source of light coming from the near full moon that hung high in the sky. The light filtering through had quickly been swallowed up by the trees, so Stiles opted to create magical lights that floated above the group as they had journeyed.  
The escort traveled for several hours by Stiles’ lights, stopping now to eat and sleep.

A tent for Derek and Stiles was quickly set up as the campfire was being kindled.  
Stiles and Derek went inside the tent to inspect it, only to find that there was only one sleeping bag. Each of the men had brought their own, attached to their saddles, except Stiles, who could’ve made the trip alone on Aenerix in half the time the escort had.  
Looking down at the situation and realizing what might have to happen, Stiles chewed his lip in anxiety.  
“We have a dilemma. Are we going to share? I don’t need a bag to keep warm.” Stiles said, waving his hand and creating purple-pink flames on the ground. The fire crackled merrily, but didn’t spread, even when Stiles walked right through it.  
“We can.” Derek mumbled awkwardly, adding, “If you need to. For comfort.”  
Stiles nodded silently, trying not to betray the fact that his heart had just skipped a beat- or two. He sat down in front of the flames he had created, silently meditating.  
Derek partially disrobed, removing his armor and related trappings, before climbing into the sleeping bag. He silently watched Stiles meditating, wondering what exactly could be going through the spark’s head right now. The amount of magic he had access to and control over was frightening, to say the least. Derek felt a natural attraction to Stiles, but couldn’t pinpoint why, which bothered him slightly. Stiles certainly wasn’t Derek’s usual type, but there was something that drew Derek to him, magically, if Derek had to begrudgingly use the word.  
Derek’s eyelids drooped as he was watching Stiles, a serenity coming over him as a gentle wind from nowhere rippled through Stiles’ hair.  
He tried to fight the exhaustion, but it was overwhelming, and he dropped off to sleep before he knew it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A sharp elbow to the ribs woke Derek with a start. As he jerked awake, he was greeted by a faceful of hair, which was definitely not his.  
He tried to sit up, but was constricted by his sleeping bag. After blinking several times to clear his vision, Derek looked down to the the gently snoring form of Stiles snuggled up, back to Derek’s chest. His elbow had been retracted, but Derek still felt the jab as he breathed.  
Shaking his head adoringly, Derek slid himself back into the bag fully, wrapping an arm around the bare-chested Stiles and protectively pulling him close. He smiled into Stiles’ hair, enjoying the way Stiles’ body meshed with his own.  
He quickly dropped off back to sleep, their breathing and heartbeats synchronizing as they lay together.


End file.
